


The Most Terrible Nightmares and the Most Wonderful Dreams

by Nostradumbass (singularthey)



Series: A Family, Asleep [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Child Abuse, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Drugged Sex, Emotional Manipulation, Ephebophilia, F/M, Incest, M/M, Modern Era, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Parent/Child Incest, Pedophilia, Rape, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Somnophilia, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:17:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3202133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singularthey/pseuds/Nostradumbass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur loves his son especially well when he can't even think about resisting him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Terrible Nightmares and the Most Wonderful Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> So this whole thing has branched out into like, fifteen possible sequels, only a few of which are even slightly related to each other. And obviously I'm not updating on any kind of schedule here; it pretty much comes whenever inspiration strikes, so unfortunately your future underage nonconsensual/emotionally manipulative watersportsy incest and associated dirtiness may be a while in coming.
> 
> Ha, coming.
> 
> My usual britpicking source isn't around anymore so please feel free to point out any mistakes.

Arthur's hands shake as he grinds a sleeping pill into dust, the mortar and pestle clicking together. Some part of him can't believe he's actually doing it, knowing how many things could go wrong with his plan. There's always been a chance Gwen will find out, or that Merlin will tell someone, but tonight the chance is higher than ever, and he's so excited, already half-hard under his dressing gown, he can hardly stand the idea of it being spoiled now.

But the risk looms over him like a dark cloud. He's being irresponsible, where before he's been so very, very careful. Gwen, upstairs and reading in bed, could decide not to take a pill tonight, even though she has been taking them all week, and come downstairs and find him, or check on Merlin and think something is wrong. Merlin could refuse Arthur's offering, or drink only part of it, and wake up at the wrong time. He wouldn't stop Arthur — he never does — but that's besides the point. He might take offence to not being in on it, this time. Or maybe the dose is too much for a boy of just fourteen, especially one with so little meat and fat on his bones, despite what Arthur had read about it, and he could get sick from it, or worse. Maybe Gwen hasn't been as blase about her pills as she's seemed, and has kept a strict count. Maybe she'll wonder how a pill went missing and start asking questions Arthur can't answer.

Or maybe, he thinks hopefully, it will go exactly as smoothly as it did before.

Before, of course, was a long time ago, when he was still in university and just visiting home. Morgana's night terrors had only just come to an end with the help of Dr. Gaius's pills, and Arthur had been eager for a little peace and quiet over the holidays. The quiet remained, but his own peace was shattered when Morgana told him herself that their supposedly in name only relationship was in fact a blood relationship as well, dashing the hopes he had had of convincing her to let him kiss her.

After that, the quiet had seemed eerie and unpleasant. In the middle of the night he'd found himself wandering their family's enormous home, and when he passed by her room the silence so disturbed him he became convinced something was wrong, and burst into her room to make sure she was fine.

She had been fine, of course. Fine, and sleeping soundly for once, wearing only a thin nightgown.

The temptation had been too much. She didn't wake when he rolled her onto her back, or when he rucked up the nightgown to expose her beautiful little cunt. She grew wet on his fingers, letting out only the quietest of moans, and neither the sound of his clothes coming off nor the feel of his cock pressing into her stirred her at all. Some of his thrusts worked soft grunts out of her, and her face contorted slightly, but she remained otherwise still even as he came deep inside her.

That had been the moment he'd finally panicked, realising there was little chance she would miss his come in the morning. He'd wiped off her thighs and made an effort of cleaning out her leaking cunt, but gave up before long and made his escape. Guilt kept him from sleeping, and he fully expected she would confront him in the morning.

She never did. He thought he noticed a little discomfort in her face when she sat down for breakfast, but otherwise it had been nearly as good as a dream. He never dared try with her again, though.

Now there is Merlin, though. However beautiful Morgana looked in her sleep, Gwen looks more lovely and sweet, but he can have her whenever he likes. Merlin is more beautiful and like a special treat, one he's not supposed to have and can only sneak occasionally. He tastes too delicious for even guilt or the fear of being found out to keep Arthur away.

He finishes crushing up the pill without anyone joining him in the kitchen. He stirs it into half a glass of milk, and washes the spoon, mortar, and pestle without incident.

Still, the creak of the stairs beneath his feet sets him on edge, and he has to take a deep breath before he pushes his son's door open.

"What is it?" Merlin asks, hardly looking up from the notebook he's writing in. What a difference a year has made in his demeanour, and his body. He's as tall as Arthur now, though considerably slimmer, and although he's still a goofy, cheerful boy, he's taken to moments of sullenness and defiance. A year ago he would have greeted his father with a smile, at least.

"I brought you milk," Arthur says, feeling stupid and suspicious even as he says it. Merlin is fourteen, he thinks to himself, and Arthur has never brought him milk; that was always Gwen job, and even she hasn't done it since he was little.

Merlin's eyebrows raise briefly, but then the smile comes out, and he only says, "Thanks, Dad." He sets down his notebook as Arthur crosses the room, and sits up to take the glass.

He doesn't drink it right away, though, and Arthur's heart beats like a hummingbird's. "What's wrong?"

Merlin frowns slightly. "It's just that I haven't, er, had any trouble at night in a while. I've been trying not to drink anything late at night."

"It's only a little bit. If you just use the toilet in about half an hour, you'll be fine," Arthur says. When Merlin makes to set the glass on his bedside table, he feels panic rise in his throat. "Just drink it now, and you won't have to worry. I don't want you to leave a dirty glass in your room overnight anyway."

Merlin nods, and drinks the glass down in almost one gulp. Arthur takes it from him, perhaps a bit too quickly, but Merlin doesn't even seem to notice. He settles back onto his bed and picks up his notebook again, but Arthur knows he won't be writing much more, with how quickly the pills work.

He can't stay to watch it happen just yet, though. He leaves, going down the stairs with the glass, and then heads back up to his own bedroom, his own bed, and his wife.

Gwen does greet him with a smile, putting down her book. "Just in time. I was going to wait up for you, but this book is absolutely awful."

Arthur gives her the best smile he can manage, shucking his dressing gown and getting into their bed beside her. He shifts the covers around carefully, masking his growing erection. He wouldn't want to delay her from taking her pill, and tonight he's not up for fucking her first, anyway. He wants to save all that he has for Merlin.

The stars have aligned for him, it seems. She takes her pill as soon as he's settled in, and doesn't seem to take any particular notice of his lack of advances. 

As usual, he waits until he's sure she's passed out before stirring. Part of him wants to go directly to Merlin, but another part of him can't entirely pass up the opportunity to make use of her limp, open body.

She sleeps naked, unashamed of her body — as she should be, he thinks. Merlin has walked into their bedroom at night, and although she covered up, she never worried too much about him seeing her breasts or naked arse. He sleeps naked as well, but Arthur has seen his cock often enough that he only pretended to be worried about it for show.

He's thought about it a lot, since, and now he touches her breasts the way he's imagined Merlin might touch them himself, if he were so inclined. He cups them, squeezes slightly to appreciate their feel, and lowers his head to mouth at one of her nipples. He suckles a little, half-hoping for milk. None comes. He's fantasised about her breastfeeding their son, now that he's grown so big, and playing with his cock.

He moves down her body, licking at her cunt. He knows Merlin has a fascination with this part of her, and that he would taste her if he could. If he knew he could, that is; maybe one day he'll have Merlin come into their bedroom and taste her himself, when she's passed out under the influence of the sleeping pills.

The thought sends simultaneous spikes of arousal and jealousy through him. They'd be a pretty sight, for sure, but the thought of sharing either of them in any way rubs him the wrong way.

Tonight, he fully intends to be rubbed in only the right way.

He rises, fondling her breasts one last time and dropping a chaste kiss on her lips. He's wondered at times if she would be jealous, if she knew about him and Merlin. Surely she'd be furious, but maybe under it all she would regret not having taken him herself, first. Or maybe she'd see, in some part of her, how perfect it is when he touches Merlin, as perfect as it is when he touches her.

He leaves his dressing gown behind as he goes into the hall, following the dim light down to Merlin's room. He doesn't hesitate at the door, and is pleased to see that Merlin has barely moved at all from where he last saw him: he's splayed out on his bed, his head tipped back and his mouth open, the notebook and pen laying just beyond his fingertips. His breathing is even and deep.

Arthur can't remember being more aroused in his entire life. He crosses the room quickly and picks up Merlin's hand, letting it drop back down onto the bed. No reaction. Arthur grins to himself, unable to contain his pleasure at how well everything has worked out.

He picks up the notebook, intending to set it out of the way, but curiosity gets to him. He's made a point of not prying, and has no idea at all what Merlin has been writing. He moves towards the door, until he can see just enough in the dim light to make out some of the words.

It's a journal, it seems. There are blocks of writing, separated by a number of spaces, and some of them have dates on them while others do not. The most recent entry cuts off mid-sentence, and from what Arthur can tell it's nothing more than Merlin describing someone — a boy — standing by a lake. It ends with the words _I remember_.

Arthur is irrationally jealous of the boy, whom Merlin describes so fondly. Golden-haired, smiling, and handsome. He flips back to another page.

 _I don't know how to feel_ , one entry, dated only a month ago, begins. _Sometimes I look at him and see the same brave, strong, kind man I can remember at times, but other times I can only remember how he is now. I know I'm supposed to think the worst of him. I guess I do, on occasion, but mostly I feel lost. Maybe some part of him remembers how it used to be, too._

The rest seems almost like gibberish. Arthur thinks it might be poetry. He flips through some more, seeing bits about swords and dragons. He hadn't even realised Merlin was interested in fantasy.

There's one passage, from the very first pages, that catches his attention. He describes being angry with the boy the other entries talk about, and then there's a section hastily scribbled out that he can still read, just barely:

_I still want him to have sex with me. I think I always have, and maybe that makes it all okay. I love every part of him, even the parts that must be sick._

Shock slides down Arthur's spine like ice. He hadn't realised Merlin was actually interested in boys, even though he had barely ever objected to the way Arthur had had him service him. He hadn't thought about it at all, really. He hopes viciously that the boy Merlin's writing about has no idea, or isn't interested in him at all. He can't stand the thought of Merlin wanting someone else's cock.

He returns to Merlin's bed, setting the notebook on his desk as he passes. He climbs onto his son's bed without hesitation, right at the head of it, and swings one knee over Merlin's slight shoulders. His cock is rigid and fat now, pointing at Merlin's face, his drooping jaw. The sight of it is perfect, and Arthur can't help himself at all. He cups the back of Merlin's head, threading his fingers through his hair, and uses his other hand to feed his cock into his slack mouth.

The feel of Merlin's relaxed tongue isn't much, but the sight of his cock in Merlin's mouth is enough to burn away Arthur's lingering jealousy. He rubs the head of his cock against Merlin's tongue, feeling it twitch and spasm against him. His teeth are too in the way for him to do much more, but if he wanted to, he thinks he could get off just like that.

Of course, then Merlin would choke and possibly wake up, and he doesn't want that. He has other plans, anyway.

He moves off of Merlin, letting his head fall back onto his pillow, and turns to face Merlin's groin. He's wearing pyjamas, long, striped green and white, but they're easy enough to shuffle out of the way, down and off Merlin's legs, exposing his soft cock.

It's grown even more attractive recently. Every growth spurt Merlin has had has lengthened it, just a bit, and it's as slim and long as the rest of him now. His balls are getting hairier, his pubic hair darker and more wiry. Arthur misses the more youthful look Merlin had not so long ago, but right now he appreciates the texture and size of everything, all the more appealing to touch and taste.

Taste is his first objective. He buried his face in Merlin's groin, breathing deeply, before licking lightly at the musky skin of his flaccid cock. He hasn't tasted Merlin's cock before, always intent on being clear that he was in charge and that Merlin's pleasure was second, lest he lose the upper hand. He wants Merlin to feel good, of course, but he worries that if he doesn't make it clear that it's his own lead they follow, Merlin might start to feel brave enough to make demands, or even threaten to tell someone.

He knows his son has a good heart and wouldn't hurt him on purpose, but power can be a heady thing. There's no use in taking the chance.

There's also a bit of embarrassment to it, too. He's never sucked another man's cock. He's never really and truly wanted to until he started sneaking into Merlin's room. He's inexperienced, and he hates showing weakness. Now he can practice to his heart's content, and one day he can surprise Merlin while he's awake without the awkward fumbling of a first time.

He takes Merlin into his mouth, and finds it immediately more difficult than he'd imagined. It's hard to keep his teeth out of the way, and to take more than half of it into his mouth before making space without choking becomes difficult. Merlin may be inexperienced and easy to please, but the drug in his blood may have dulled his senses. In any case, his cock is slow to stir, filling sluggishly under Arthur's messy sucks and licks. He cups Merlin's balls, squeezing them lightly and rolling them, just to get a feel for them.

It takes some time, but eventually Merlin's cock begins to firm up, just slightly. He's not fully hard yet, but Arthur decides it's good enough for the moment, and sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He plays idly with Merlin's foreskin a moment, which is looser than his own, sliding it up and down over the head of his cock.

His own cock begs for attention, and he braces himself over Merlin with one hand, using the other to bring their erections together. He pumps his hips, rubbing them against one another, and moans at the feel of it. When he looks up at Merlin's face, his expression hasn't even changed, his jaw still slack and his breathing still totally even.

That's the last confirmation that everything is working he needs. He climbs off of Merlin and off the bed, crouching by the bedside table. In the bottom drawer he knows there's a half-used tube of lubricant; he had put it there, pretending it was for Merlin's own use — and he clearly has made use of it — but truly intending it for his own. He's managed by now to work about an inch of his cock into Merlin's arse with its help, but tonight he plans on taking it further still.

He gets back on the bed, squeezing the tube until his forefinger and middle finger are coated and slick. He doesn't waste any time, quickly forcing one finger into Merlin's pliable body, and then the other. He uses his other hand to jerk Merlin's half-hard cock as he does, coaxing it further towards full hardness and, he hopes, subconsciously making him associate the feeling of intrusion in his arse with pleasure in his cock. The more Merlin wants to be an active participant, the easier it will be for Arthur to do this when he's awake.

He really isn't all that sure how to judge when a body is ready for anal sex. Gwen always tells him when they do it, and he never questions it or thinks too hard about how she feels; it helps that she's enthusiastic and aware, he's sure. He doesn't have any feedback from Merlin to work off of, so he guesses, pulling his fingers out and slicking up his cock quickly. His thighs quiver in his anticipation, and he can't make himself wait, pushing the head of his cock in faster than he would dare if Merlin was awake, using one hand to keep his son's leg pushed up and out of the way.

The benefit to Merlin being asleep, of course, is that he isn't anticipating it, and thus isn't tensing up. His relaxed body hardly reacts to Arthur pressing into him, and Arthur moans in bliss as Merlin's arse swallows his cock up. Where before he might have stopped at just the head, giving Merlin time to adjust, he now presses on, slow but steady, sinking deeper, past resistance and friction to heavenly heat and pressure, until he's pressed his balls up against Merlin's arse.

He pauses then, luxuriating in the feeling and knowledge of being fully embedded in Merlin's arse. He strokes Merlin's cock, adjusts his grip on his leg, and hums to himself, committing the feeling and dimly-lit sight of it all to memory. As he pulls out, slowly, almost reluctantly, he watches his hard shaft emerge from Merlin's body until he nearly slips free.

He pauses only one more time, breathing hard and fast. He looks at Merlin's face; his brow is slightly furrowed, but otherwise he shows no reaction at all. Arthur hoists his leg up over his shoulder. It's a slightly unnatural position, but it frees up his hand to brace himself over Merlin while the other continues to stroke his cock, slowly getting it harder and harder.

Then he shows no mercy. The first brutal thrust into Merlin's body pushes a small noise out of him, makes him roll his head to the side, and subsequent thrusts earn small, pathetic groans, but otherwise he doesn't respond, and so Arthur closes his eyes, focusing entire on the sublime feeling of fucking his son.

He thinks of it that way: He's fucking Merlin. He's fucking his son. The first thought is beautiful and precious, like Merlin himself is. The second is dirty, sinful, and bound to send him to whatever the most hellish possible afterlife is, but it brings him closer to orgasm that much fast. He supposes some part of him enjoyed the fact that Morgana was related to him, even, though even fucking his own sister couldn't compare to the thrill of being the one to take his own son's virginity.

He assumes, anyway. Jealously rears its ugly head again, and he thrusts harder into Merlin, faster, at the thought that Merlin might have let someone else touch him. He wants to leave a mark, but he can't, so he commits himself to leaving a deep impression inside Merlin instead. He hopes that Merlin will feel it the next day, even if he isn't sure why. It's dangerous and it's unwise, but he goes for it nonetheless, chasing his orgasm until he's sweating from exertion, his muscles burning brilliantly.

When he comes, he lets go of Merlin's cock, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him down the bed onto his own. He wishes he could see it, see the way his come is filling Merlin up, and he wonders if Merlin would be able to feel it, if he'll feel it in the morning, leaking out of him or sticky inside him. He wonders if he'll realise what happened, even as he hopes he doesn't.

He breathes harshly as he comes down, and he has to consciously remind himself to let go of Merlin's hips. He checks the skin, but he can't see any bruising, so he thinks he's safe. Gwen doesn't often see Merlin's hips anyway, but it's better to be safe. It might have been safer to use a condom, too, or to come outside his arse, but it felt too good to stop and consider that.

He hates pulling out, wishes he could fall asleep tucked inside Merlin. He wishes he never had to pull out of Merlin at all, that he sit at his desk at work buried inside him, that he could eat dinner while Merlin bounced in his lap. He'd only ever let him go so that Gwen could take his place, if he had it his way.

But there are other pleasures to be sought, anyway. He wants Merlin to come with Arthur's semen in his arse, the feel of his cock still lingering. He grasps Merlin's cock again, stroking him a few times before bending down and suckling at the head of his cock again. He's more tired now, but also more eager for it, and he wants to taste Merlin's come. He's tasted a little before, and made Merlin taste it, when he had Merlin jerk off for him, but now he needs a proper mouthful of it, to really know its full taste and texture.

Luckily, his strokes have made Merlin hard, and it's not as long as he worries it might be before Merlin's cock spurts weakly into his mouth. There isn't much come, and it's not exactly a pleasant taste, but Arthur savours it nonetheless, swallowing it slowly, bit by bit.

And then it's over, he realises. The night is still young, and he's spent himself — and Merlin — already. He could wait until he could get it up again, and it's never too long with Merlin, but he'd risk falling asleep, and there would be no coming back from that.

He plays idly with Merlin's cock when an idea strikes him. He's wished before for a chance to see Merlin wet himself uncovered. There's no need for it at all, with Merlin drugged and needing no coercion, but he has Merlin bared and ripe for whatever he so desires, and in that moment, that is exactly what he desires.

He nearly drops the bowl as he brings it back upstairs, excited and unafraid. He only worries that Merlin hasn't had enough to drink, that his bladder will need more coaxing than he can give it to let go.

The milk appears to have done its work, though. He dips Merlin's hand into the warm water, and as he watches, a bead of urine dribbles out of Merlin's limp cock, trailing down his thigh. In a moment the drip becomes a trickle, and then the trickle becomes a weak stream, flowing over his leg and pooling by his hip. Arthur is fascinated, fixed to the spot at he watches it come straight from the source, and he almost feels like he could get another erection shortly.

Almost. It doesn't last quite long enough, and he isn't quite young enough. He's left with something to jerk off to later, and his son laying in bed, sleeping more or less peacefully in a puddle of his own piss.

At that point he realises the problem in his impromptu plan: Merlin's pyjama bottoms lay at his feet, completely dry. It would be difficult to explain how they came off without help, and difficult to replicate the feel of properly piss-dampened clothes.

He has no choice but to put them back on Merlin, piss sloshing at his knee as he works them back up his legs. He's thinking about turning Merlin over into the puddle, hoping it will soak through his clothes, when another idea strikes him. He hasn't considered it before, but he's done it with Gwen, and suddenly the idea of pissing on Merlin is heady and perfect.

He backs up a little, coming up on his knees as he holds his cock, aiming at Merlin's crotch. It's surprisingly easy to let go, and his bladder is full enough for his stream to be strong and simple to aim. In seconds Merlin's groin is sopping wet and yellowed, and Arthur aims over his thigh, down to the puddle at his hip before the stream dies out.

He stands up and admires his handiwork. It's not easy to see in the partial darkness, but it certainly looks to him like a routine bed-wetting. There's more piss than there probably should be, but once Merlin wakes up and notices, he's unlikely to try and account for how much ought to have been in his bladder.

Maybe he'll come running to Arthur to help him clean up, and he can earn himself another chance to put his cock in Merlin while he's awake.

Arthur cleans himself up quickly in the bathroom, wiping away come and piss with a damp flannel, before he climbs back into his bed. Gwen, like Merlin, hasn't moved at all in the night, and he slips beneath the covers feeling powerful and sated.

Merlin doesn't come to him in the morning, but Arthur finds him trying to frantically clean his bedsheets himself, and as he offers him a hand he can't help but notice the jerky rhythm of Merlin's steps, his stance wider than usual. He presses himself against Merlin's backside, his cock hard, as they work on the laundry together, but doesn't dare take it further in the light of day, with Gwen awake and aware.

She notices something off, but it's only the smallest thing: "Arthur, are you all right? You look like you haven't slept at all."

Arthur shrugs. "I didn't sleep very soundly last night, I suppose."

Gwen clicks her tongue at him. "Maybe you should try taking one of my sleeping pills. I've felt much better this week, you know."

Arthur grins, hiding it behind a mug of coffee. "Maybe I will."


End file.
